


Written in Our Scars

by CSIGurlie07



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Identity Reveal, Post Season 3 Finale, SuperCorp, angry lena, soft Lena, the great kryptonite rift, with a hopeful ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-07-14 22:49:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 19,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16050173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CSIGurlie07/pseuds/CSIGurlie07
Summary: Emboldened by Alex's decision to chase her own happiness, Kara reveals her secret to Lena. Hurt and angry, Lena seems ready to pull away entirely-- but when Kara invites her to visit Argo, the trip may be just what they need to heal.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on tumblr. Some minor tweaks here and there, but largely the same as the original posting.

Kara reveals herself to Lena the night after they defeat Reign.

Her mother has already returned to Argo with Kara’s promise to visit as soon as the reconstruction of National City is underway. Her sister is reacclimating to the realization that she can have everything she wants, and Kara catches the bug.

Alex isn’t making excuses. She isn’t putting her happiness on hold.

She made the selfish decision to resign, to pursue what she wants most.

It’s Alex’s courage that prods Kara to do the same.

She reveals her truth to Lena with a few popped buttons and minimal explanation. At this point, words would just be excuses, and there’s something in the way that Lena pulls away that curdles any well-meaning explanations on Kara’s tongue.

“So when Supergirl accused me of being the devil incarnate for making kryptonite…”

Lena’s soft voice carves through the silence. She stands away from the sofa where Kara sits, arms crossed tightly across her chest. Long fingers press deep into her own arms, and Kara sees tears glittering in her eyes.

Whether they’re tears of hurt, or anger, or something else entirely, Kara doesn’t know. For the first time since they met, Lena’s features are completely inscrutable.

“That wasn’t just National City’s resident superhero, but my very best friend. Is that what you’re telling me?”

Kara swallows thickly. She’s not proud of the way she reacted to Lena’s kryptonite, especially now that the actions Kara had decried had saved the last of her people. Her mother.

“I’m sorry,” is all Kara can offer. “It– Kryptonite is a sensitive subject–”

“I can tell,” Lena returns. “Especially from the way you chewed out Agent Danvers for weaponizing the kryptonite you forced me to surrender.”

A flush heats the back of Kara’s neck. She has no leg to stand on, and she knows it. She trusted Alex with the kryptonite. She didn’t trust Lena, and she had far less reason to doubt Lena.

“Why tell me now?” Lena holds her gaze, features a mask of indifference. “Did you want to make sure I knew exactly who I’d be hurting if I ever chose to go back on my word?”

“What? No!”

“Then why?”

“Because for twelve years, I thought I was alone in the universe. Krypton was just a memory, one I alone seemed to carry. Hiding Supergirl was about hiding what I could do, what I did when I put on the cape.

“But Lena– part of Krypton  _ survived _ . My mother is  _ alive _ . It’s not just what I was, or what I can do– it’s who I am. And I’ve nearly told you a million times since I found out, because you’re my best friend. Because–”

Because Lena is the only one who can even come close to understanding what it would mean to have her mother back.

To have spent so many years believing her mother dead and then suddenly have her, flesh and blood, to hug and hold and to talk to.

Alex tries, but when Kara mentions Krypton, she gets a shadow in her eye– the unspoken, unshakeable fear that Kara will leave her to spend more time with her mother.

“I want my mother to meet you. I want to show you everything that helped make me who I am. I want to share Argo with you. I want to share my world, my– my culture! I want to show you  _ everything _ !”

Lena stares at her, eyes wide and silent. In the quiet, Kara’s excitement slowly fades to apprehension. She could recite the Book of Rao right here and now, but if Lena didn’t want to know— it meant nothing. 

“That is…” Kara’s throat tightens around the words. “If you’ll let me.”


	2. Chapter 2

Against all odds, Lena doesn’t throw her out. Kara half expects it– expects more outrage than the silence that follows.

“Lena.” Kara is close to begging when Lena begins collecting her things to leave, all without a further word. “Please…”

“I can’t do this tonight.” Lena hefts her briefcase in one hand and her keys in the other.

“Should I…?”

“Honestly, Kara, I don’t care what you do.”

Lena leaves her alone in the office, both a blow and a trust that leaves Kara reeling. 

* * *

 

Kara gives her time and space to process, and waits for Lena to make the next move.

After two weeks, Kara doesn’t receive any word from Lena, but it’s time for her to make good on her promise to her mother, so she knocks on Lena’s front door as Kara Danvers, complete with glasses.

“I’m going to Argo tomorrow,” she says, when Lena wordlessly opens the door to her. “Just for a visit. But… do you want to come with me?”

She doesn’t know why, but Lena accepts the offer. She arrives at the DEO the next morning with a practical duffel bag in one hand. She barely meets Kara’s gaze, but Kara smiles widely regardless.

Lena steps up to the transmat portal with something close to irritation pinching her features.

“Of course they already have one,” she mutters, to no one in particular. “Perfect.”

“Ready?” Kara chirps, overly loud as though it can mask the flush that creeps up Lena’s cheeks when she remembers that Kara is Supergirl and can therefore hear her bitter mutterings.

When Lena’s eyebrows shrug in confirmation, Kara leads the way into the close comfort of her father’s lab. Alura awaits her with a happy smile on her face.

“ _ Xiexiu _ ,” Kara greets with a hug. She savors the warmth of her mother’s embrace, but cuts it short in deference to Lena’s awkward attempts to look at anything else and also avoid staring at the dormant tech sprawled across the lab.

“Mom, you remember Lena.”

“Yes, of course,” Alura steps forward, and clasps Lena’s outstretched hand in both of hers. “The harun'el you provided us is already making a making a noticeable difference in our quality of life here in Argo. We owe you a great deal.”

The smile Lena gives is almost genuine. “I’m glad it’s being put to good use.“

“Lena is also my best friend on Earth,” Kara fills in, bouncing lightly on her toes. She has no powers here on Argo, but she feels as though she could float with excitement. “She’s saved National City as many times as I have.”

In a instant, Lena’s gaze darkens. “Oh, that’s not–”

“It seems my daughter has a way of finding those who share her spirit,” Alura says, her smile turning gentle as she give Lena’s hand an extra squeeze. “I am glad for it. You are all the more welcome.”

Alura leads the way out of the lab, and as they step onto the street, Lena grabs Kara’s arm hard enough to make her wince.

“Do  _ not _ misrepresent me to your mother,” she mutters, voice dark and inaudible to Alura. Her fingers release Kara’s arm, and Kara has to resist the urge to rub the unexpected soreness away.

“I didn’t–”

“I hope you haven’t forgot you practically accused me of planning your murder, Kara, because I sure haven’t.”

Green eyes bore into Kara’s. For the first time since they met, they’re almost unrecognizable.

"Next time, figure out how  _ you _ feel about me before extolling my heroism to your mother.”

Lena pulls away then, but doesn’t make any move to trail after Alura. After a moment, Kara realizes Lena’s waiting for her to go first. She does so, and feels Lena’s eyes burning a hole between her shoulder blades all the way to her mother’s home.

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.


	3. Chapter 3

Alura provides them separate rooms, and clothes enough for both. Kara changes immediately. When she checks on Lena on her way downstairs, she finds Lena sitting on the bed, still in her own clothes.

“I have,” Kara says, breaking the long silence between them.

Lena doesn’t lift her gaze. “Have what?”

“Figured out how I feel about you.” To that, she gets no response. “I was just… so shocked. I never imagined you would devote your time or resources to something so blatantly anti-Super, and it felt so _personal_. Like the relationship between us meant nothing.”

“Which relationship?” Lena finally scowls up at her. “You seem to forget that you’ve carried on two completely different relationships with me for the past two years. Without my knowledge.”

A flush rises to Kara’s cheeks as she ducks her chin.

“I could maybe understand the reason behind it, except for the fact I’m literally the only person in your life who didn’t know the truth. Regardless, you don’t get to hold it against me that I had no idea that Supergirl was really my best friend lying to me.”

“Lena…”

“So whose relationship didn’t mean anything? Supergirl’s? Kara Danver’s? Or is it the fact that my friendship meant so little to  _ you _ that you were fine lying from day one?”

The tight knot of anguish cinches tighter in Kara’s gut. She doesn’t have an answer. Lena’s right. She doesn’t have a leg to stand on.

“It didn’t start as a lie.”

Lena’s lips part to argue back, but close again when Kara lifts her hands beseechingly. When she sits next to Lena on the bed, she takes a measure of hope in the fact that Lena doesn’t scoot away.

“It was always a secret, yes. One that was supposed to protect you as much as it was to protect me." 

Kara tucks her hands between her knees, but then pulls them free again to gesture helplessly. 

"But you’re right. Your friendship meant so much to me that I let you get closer than I ever thought you would. In the process, that secret became a lie, and I let it continue because I knew if you learned the truth, you’d be hurt, and angry. I thought I’d lose you for good."

Kara meets Lena's gaze. "I’m sorry I let it get to that point. I’m sorry I didn’t trust you with this sooner.”

When Lena doesn’t respond, the silence is suffocating. Kara can’t hear anything but her own heartbeat. No birds chirp outside, no wind scrapes against the window, and the voices of Argo are far beyond her hearing. And Lena… even Lena’s breath is silent to Kara now.

The world feels so distant: Kara feels like the Phantom Zone has swallowed her up again.

“So.” Lena swallows thickly, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Your lie was a choice, then. And then you accused me of unspeakable betrayal when it came back to bite you.”

Lena rises to her feet. In her wake, Kara feels small.

“That’s rich.”

And then she’s gone.


	4. Chapter 4

Despite the stiffness between them, Lena is the consummate guest. By the time Kara collects herself enough to join the others downstairs, Lena’s helping move plates of food from the counter to the table, while Alura finishes setting cups in front of each chair.

The sight is jarring. Not the way Lena and Alura move around each other pleasantly, exchanging polite words of apology when their paths cross. But the way Lena travels back and forth to the kitchen as though she lives there, and the way Alura allows her to, as though the very notion isn’t anathema to Kryptonian etiquette.

They always had Kal-ex to do that sort of chore. And the worst part is that Kara doesn’t know if Alura allows it because she respects Earth’s customs, or if it’s because there are no Kal-ex units anymore.

Uneasiness crawls into her bones and stays there as Kara joins them at the table. The food is bland compared to earth, though it tastes of nostalgia on Kara’s tongue.

Lena seems perfectly content with tuberous vegetables on her plate. She consumes her portion far more easily than Kara, who suddenly wants nothing more than a piece of pizza.

“Oh, and Kara,” Alura says, breaking from her small talk to make eye contact with her daughter. “Thara has expressed a desire to see you again. She’s invited you to her home for dinner tomorrow night. Her little ones are dying to meet you.”

Kara blinks. “Oh, uh…” Her gaze slides to Lena, who cocks one eyebrow.

“Don’t let me keep you,” she drawls gently. “I can manage myself for a night.”

“Well, actually,” Alura says, “I was actually hoping to speak with you, Lena. The council is entertaining the idea of resuming scientific research here in Argo. Now that we have enough of the harun'el to consider a sustainable future, we have room to explore and study.”

Lena gives a small smile. “That’s wonderful. I’m sure L-Corp is still leagues behind anything you already have, but we’d be happy to provide whatever help we can.”

“Kara’s father was one of the only members of the Science Guild to survive the destruction of Krypton. Fewer still survived the early years of Argo. Our most innovative knowledge died with them.”

Throat locked tight at the mention of her father, Kara stares at her plate. After a beat, Alura continues.

“I was hoping you might help me learn what projects Zor-el might have records of in his lab. Some of the tables may be damaged, but I hoped you may be able to restore them.”

“Wow,” Lena demures, cheeks flushing even as her eyes spark with budding excitement. “I would love to. That would be–”

Her mood breaks in an instant, and a mask of cynical indifference slips over her features.

“I’d have to check with Supergirl, of course.”  Her voice is gentle, perhaps in deference to the subject of Kara’s father, but her gaze is ice cold.  “I’d hate for her to think I’m abusing her planet’s hospitality.”

“Nonsense! Of course Kara would…”

Alura trails off, and Kara fixes her wobbling vision to her picked-at plate. She feels her mother’s stare, but can’t bring herself to meet it.

“Excuse me,” Lena says, pushing away from the table. “Alura, may I use your washroom?”

“Of course.” Alura rises as well. “I’ll show you.”

Kara doesn’t move by the time her mother returns a few moments later. When a warm hand covers hers, tears finally spill free.

“Oh, my sweet daughter,” Alura murmurs. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to reveal your identity. I shouldn’t have assumed your friend knew.”

Kara hiccups, shaking her head. “She knows. That’s the problem.”

“She resents you abilities then?”

“No, it’s not that. Lena– she should have known sooner. But I lied to her, and now she knows and she’s mad and she has every right, because she’s trusted me at every turn, and I– I– I repaid her in lies. It’s my fault.”

She leans into her mother’s hand when it cups her cheek, only to pull away in shame a moment later. She doesn’t deserve tenderness. Not for this.

Clearing her throat, Kara wipes her eyes roughly. “I just don’t know how to fix it. I thought sharing Argo with Lena would help rebuild some of the trust, but… I don’t think it’s working.”

Finally, she meets her mother’s eye with a watery smile. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, please.” Alura clasps both of Kara’s hands in hers. “I’m sorry this is such a difficult time for you. If there’s anything I can do…”

Kara shakes her head. “No. I made this mess. I’ll fix it– somehow.”

Despite the brushoff, her mother’s gaze warms with pride. “You have grown so much, Kara. Your father would be so proud of who you’ve become. As am I.”

That night, Kara sits in the window of her old bedroom. Staring out at the shadowy shapes of leaves and ferns beyond her window, she can’t help but long for Rao’s red light, and russet deserts of Krypton. She doesn’t hear Lena in the doorway until a voice shakes her from the wistful memories.

“I’m sorry.” 

Kara stares at her in confusion, forcing Lena to continue despite her clear desire to be anywhere but there.  “For my behavior earlier,” she explains.

“It’s not like I don’t deserve it–”

“I was being mean,” Lena cuts in. Her features twist. “Deserved or not, I don’t want to be that person, so… moving forward I’ll be more civil.”

Kara swallows painfully. She nods. “Thank you.”

“Good night.”

“‘Night.”

Lena leaves on quiet feet. Kara turns back to the window, but this time she doesn’t see darkened foliage. Lena’s smile dances in front of her eyes, and with a start, Kara realizes she can’t remember the last time she saw it.

She wonders if she’ll see it again.

_Moving forward_ , Lena had said. Kara clings to the echo, finding a glimmer of hope in the opportunity. The door wasn’t shut yet. Not completely.

She still has a chance to fix it.


	5. Chapter 5

The following morning, Kara is the last to wake. The sluggishness in her limbs feels foreign, and no matter how hard or long she rubs her eyes, her eyelids remain heavy as she shuffles her way to the kitchen.

A strangled cough is her only warning that she’s not alone. Lena sits opposite Alura at the table, mopping at moisture that seems to have escaped down her chin. Kara looks to her mother for a hint of what she’s walked in on, but only receives a warm good morning in return.

“G'morning…” she grumbles. She turns to the counter, only to realize that she’s on Argo. There is no coffee.

“Is it?” Lena asks. A grin teases her lips when Kara turns back. “Sorry, but the lack of chipmunk mode…”

“Chipmunk mode?” Alura asks.

“A chipmunk is a small rodent on Earth often characterized as energetic and pleasant,” Lena explains. “I’ve never seen anyone more happy in the morning than Kara.”

“’M not a chipmunk,” Kara mutters, pushing the hair from her face.

“Oh, really? Moving quick, cheeks stuffed full of doughnuts?”

Kara flushes, but warms at the levity in Lena’s voice.

“A doughnut is a breakfast pastry in the shape of a ring, made of sweet cake that’s often covered in more sugar.” Lena catches Kara’s eye over the top of her teacup. “Gotta make sure your mother has the full picture.”

Alura laughs brightly, further softening the moment. “Oh, it is difficult to imagine. Growing up Kara was always grouchy in the mornings. She didn’t lighten up until she got her han'a bread.”

Finally cracking a grin, Kara settles in the empty chair. “I remember.” She accepts the tea her mother offers, and curls her hands around the cup. “The bread wasn’t sweet,” she tells Lena. “It was filled with a savory paste. I would eat them morning, noon, and night if I could.”

Before Alura leaves for the day, she presses a hand to Kara’s shoulder. “Perhaps you would come with me to the council today? There are many who still wish to meet you.”

“Lena and I planned to explore the market today,” Kara says quickly, hating the way her mother’s features fall but unable shake the twisted gut that dissuades her from accepting.

From the corner of her eye, Kara sees a dark eyebrow crawl upwards. They had no plans– Kara didn’t even know if Lena’s apology the night before allowed for prolonged company. The longer Lena holds her gaze, the more Kara feels her lie exposed.

Lena says nothing.

“Of course,” Alura returns graciously. She turns to Lena. “I hope you enjoy your time.”

Lena keeps a good poker face. “I’m sure I will.”

When they’re alone again, Lena’s gaze pins Kara to her seat.

“Thanks for not–”

“Do you know how I spent this morning?” Lena cuts in.

Kara flushes. “Drinking tea?”

“Answering questions about you.” Lena pegs her with a hard stare. “Your mother wants to get to know you.”

When Lena rises a quiet moment later, she leaves her cup on the table.

“Maybe you should let her.”


	6. Chapter 6

Despite the lie, Lena agrees to the tour. Kara gladly takes up the mantle of tour guide, grateful for the distraction. As they walk along the strand, however, she realizes that she barely knows it anymore.

She sees fragments of her childhood in the steps that lead to where the hall of judgement once stood, now home to a community garden; in the battered arch of truth that sits almost forgotten in the middle of the market square.

It breaks her heart, and yet– she offers the pieces to Lena.

“My father took me here for my eighth birthday,” she tells Lena, indicating the slope of shallow steps that now terminate in a flat pond. “That was the year I chose to pursue the science guild. I could have joined the justice guild, because of my mother, but the sciences called to me. It was always a puzzle to solve, to keep me occupied– and something that didn’t require debate. I was never a good arguer.”

Lena stares out across the water, offering nothing in response. After a while, Kara stops expecting one. She talks for herself more than anything else. Speaking her memories aloud makes them real, here among the echoes of what used to be.

She tries not to notice the way Lena’s gaze skims the buildings and the placards memorializing Krypton, seeing but not reading– or asking for a translation. She tries not to notice that Lena barely acknowledges a word she says, aside from the odd hum or nod.

When they reach the marketplace. Lena makes a show of browsing the stalls, but Kara can see the way her focus is cursory at best. In that moment, she realizes she had hoped Lena’s innate curiosity would help break the ice between them.

Lena seems disinclined to oblige, leaving Kara at a loss on how to proceed… until Lena’s eye catches on a particular item.

“What’s this?” Pale fingers reach for an oblong stone, but fall short of making contact. An inscription is carved into its smooth face.

Kara picks it up for her, and places it in her palm. Lena’s skin is soft under her fingers, and her heart skips a beat when Lena doesn’t pull away.

“It’s a prayer stone.”

“It’s lighter than it looks.” Lena hefts the stone in her palm, running her fingers over the inscription and turning it over to inspect the reverse side. “Is it hollow?”

Kara nods emphatically, relieved for the belated interest. “The stones form without a center. It collects your thoughts and prayers, and stores them for when you need them most. Some are for luck, or happiness, or love.”

“Which one is this?” Lena flips the stone back around, presenting the inscription for translation.

“The inscription is part of a prayer for the dead. A– a lament, I think, is the closest English translation. Sometimes these are left by shrines devoted to the departed, so that even in Rao’s light, their souls can hear the thoughts stored within and know that they’re still loved. Still missed.”

Glancing at Lena, Kara finds her friend’s features suddenly soft. For the first time since Kara revealed herself as Supergirl, she sees a piece of the true Lena– along with a deep, unspoken ache.

Gently, Kara curls Lena’s fingers around the stone. “You should keep it,” she says softly.

Just like that, the mask snaps back into place. “It’s not mine.”

“It is if I buy it for you,” Kara returns, only for Lena to shove the rock back onto the stall table.

“I mean, it’s not my culture. It doesn’t mean–”

A sharp cry down the lane cuts her short.

Lena and Kara turn as one towards the sound, shoulders bristling at the prospective danger. Instead, the cry turns to a joyous shout, and then many voices laughing as rain starts to pour from the sky.

In moments, Lena and Kara are drenched. At first, Lena looks irritated at the downpour, but softens when the market dissolves into a mess of adults and children splashing in puddles and dancing in the rain. Kara beams.

“It never rained on Krypton,” she explains, whether Lena wants to know it or not. “This must be the first time any of them have ever seen it. I guess your harun'el is doing more than we realized.”

They don’t join in the fun– things are still too awkward between them for that. Lena simply watches, and lets the rain continue to drench her.

“I don’t know what to say,” Kara blurts.

Green eyes flash at her. “I didn’t ask you to say anything.”

“I mean– my mother. I don’t know what to say to her.”

Lena doesn’t respond. Rain rustles her hair, darkening it to deep black. She makes no effort to move to a drier location– or to escape Kara.

“I meant it when I said I know what it’s like to realize your parents aren’t who you think they are. For years I thought they were the paragons of Krypton. But recently I discovered they weren’t. The Medusa virus your mother tried to use on the city was engineered by my father, and my mother–”

Astra’s face flashes through her mind. The carbon copy of her mother, warped by hate but still clinging to a kernel of good. Astra, who had been the only one to try and spread the truth, to try to prevent Krypton’s destruction. Astra, betrayed and punished for doing what she thought was right.

Kara looks into Lena’s eyes, and feels her throat lock around a sob. She swallows repeatedly until it passes.

“I don’t know what to say to her. I never thought I’d have the chance to say anything at all, but now– is it my responsibility to hold her accountable? Am I betraying who I am as Supergirl if I don’t?”

She kicks herself for invoking Supergirl’s name– the one thing sure to destroy even this thin inroad, and she can’t avoid even that. But Lena doesn’t shut down. She turns to Kara, and though solemn, her expression seems receptive.

Kara looks down at the dampening hem of her dress. Suddenly, the bodice feels heavy against her skin, and not just because of the rain. The crest nestled against her breast glares at her more loudly than the vibrant red and blue of her suit.

“You could ignore it,” Lena finally says. “You’re only here for a few days: why ruin the time you have with your mother by airing the dirty laundry?”

Kara doesn’t respond.

“But it sounds like it’s bothering you,” Lena continues slowly, voice softening. “And that it’s preventing you from reconnecting with her in any meaningful way.”

Lena’s gaze is waiting for Kara when she finally lifts her eyes. Even through the blur of rain and rising tears, she can see the solemn certainty, as though Lena has all the answers.

“I know what I would do,” Lena continues. Her shoulder lifts minutely. “And I like to think it’s not so different from what you would do.”

When Lena brushes her arm, her fingers are ice cold. But at her tender touch, the dam inside Kara breaks. Tears she thought had run out the night before start all over again, running together with the raindrops gathering on the tip of her nose. She quickly wipes them away, but Lena’s gaze never once turns condescending for the moisture that stubbornly sticks to her lashes.

“Thank you,” she murmurs.

Lena’s only reaction is a shrug of her eyebrows, before her gaze returns to the joyful display still playing out before them. Together, they stand and watch the rain until it peters out ten minutes later.

When the sun comes out shortly thereafter, they resume their walk in silence.


	7. Chapter 7

Kara’s dress dries fairly quickly, but after a while, Lena starts to itch. It only takes a few minutes of her surreptitiously scratching her arms and under her damp collar for Kara to notice, but she only says something when splotchy red welts start to form across Lena’s skin.

“You need to change,” Kara tells her. Going back to her mother’s home would take longer than she’d like, given what she knows about human anaphylaxis, so instead she pulls Lena to a clothiers stall and shoves the first dress she finds into her arms. “There’s a stall in the back to change. Go.”

Lena is just uncomfortable enough to not protest. Kara settles the cost with the vendor, and on a whim adds a matching cloak to their purchase. Then she waits. And waits. And waits.

“Lena?” she calls, making her way deeper into the stall towards the small curtained area. “You okay?”

A muffled “yes” answers her.

“Are you dressed? Come out!”

Kara can almost feel the hesitation in the silence that follows. Then the curtain slowly parts, and Lena emerges in a blue gown detailed with gold. It hangs off Lena’s shoulders, and while the splotchy hives are still visible, they’re already beginning to fade, and long sleeves hide the irritated areas on her arms and wrists.

Kara’s mouth goes dry at the sight of Lena’s flushing features, and the way she nervously tucks her damp hair behind her ear.

“I’m not sure I’m wearing it right.”

“You are!” Kara blurts. “Yeah, uh… you look– great. You look great.”

Better than great. Even with tangled, bedraggled hair, Lena looks beautiful. Her hard edges soften under the garments Kara grew up with, and for a moment, the Lena before her looks like the Lena who shared movie nights with her, once upon a time. The sight steals Kara’s breath.

It’s a long moment to realize Lena doesn’t look nearly as reassured as she should be. Then Kara remembers how she’d wanted to stay in her own clothes, and the way she’d rejected the prayer stone so vehemently.

“You don’t have to wear it, if it makes you uncomfortable. I just thought it’d be better than whatever was making you–”

“Why am I here, Kara?”

Kara blinks at her before ducking her chin. “I hoped it was because you wanted to be.”

“Why did you invite me?” Lena’s mouth twists, eyes glinting with hurt and uncertainty. “You accuse me of malpractice because I dared to use Kryptonite without your knowledge, and then you tell me you’ve been lying to me since the day we met, and now we’re… what?”

Unable to say anything, Kara ducks her chin. She never meant to make Lena feel like a bad person. She knows her actions said otherwise.

“You know, even after you bit my head off about the Kryptonite, and I realized Supergirl would never trust me again, I still knew I did the right thing to help Sam. That I wasn't the monster Supergirl made me out to be. But just a few hours here and I feel like the most despicable person on Earth.”

Kara jolts in alarm. “Lena, I– I didn’t mean–”

“I should be happy for you,” Lena continues, voice shaking. “I can’t imagine what the loss of losing your planet must have been like. I should be thrilled for you to have a piece of it back, and honored that you’d want to share it with me but– _don't!_ ”

She rips her arm from Kara’s reaching hand, refusing the contact. Tears glitter angrily in her eyes, and Kara has to fold her arms around herself to keep from reaching again.

“Instead I’m going in circles trying to learn your true motive, and I’m afraid to even _look_  at anything in the off chance you suddenly decide that I’m no longer worthy of seeing it or touching it, or that you’ll wonder if I’ll find some way to use it against you! And I just–”

Frustrated fingers drag through damp hair. Lena inhales, and Kara recognizes a calming technique when she hears it.

“You say you’re sorry but I don’t even know if you know what to be sorry for. And I’m stuck here floundering while you try to figure it out.”

“I do know.”

Lena scoffs, turning her gaze aside as her fingers tug anxiously on the hem of her neckline. Indignation rises in Kara, hot and sudden.

“Do you think I’ve thought about anything else?” Kara snaps. “You’re mad about the fact I lied to you. But what I’ve realized is that I think we can come back from that– what hurt you more is that I believed you could use that kryptonite to harm Supergirl without cause.”

Lena gazes darts to her, sharp and cutting and burning with anger.

“And you’re right! As soon as I had room to think about it, after Reign was finally finished, I realized– I reacted to the Kryptonite like you’d already used it.”

“I had–”

“Not against me. And you didn’t use it to harm, but to help Sam. You have never, in all the time I’ve known you, given me reason to believe you would have used it against Supergirl without cause.”

Kara takes a step forward, barely a step, and falls still when she sees Lena go rigid. But Lena doesn’t move away.

“We can argue about whether it was right to make that Kryptonite until we’re both blue in the face– and I hope we do, because I want to come to an understanding, but even if we don’t… it should have been a discussion between friends. I should never have given you ultimatums like I did. I was wrong to do that.”

Lena glances at her, and though her features don’t soften, Kara sees the hesitant acceptance in sight. “So this little field trip is…”

This time, when Kara reaches for Lena’s hand, she doesn’t pull away. “I know I can’t fix things overnight. That’s not what this is. My invitation is proof of my trust– the trust I’ve always had, even if I’ve done bad job in showing it. You mean…” Kara’s voice catches in her throat. “You mean so much to me, Lena. I don’t want to lose your friendship.”

“Because you’re afraid of what I’ll do without your positive influence?” Lena drawls, rolling her eyes. A shadow flickers over her features, a fleeting doubt that Kara might actually feel that way.

“You were a good person long before you met me.” Kara smiles when Lena glances back at her, surprised. “Even I’m not egotistical enough to think that I have anything to do with that.”

She gives Lena’s fingers a squeeze, and this time– Lena’s fingers curl around hers in response. “And now that you know the truth, I can tell you that… when you met Kara Danvers, the most deliberately unnoticeable person on the planet, and you made me feel like I was someone special. Like I could do anything. _Be_  anything. It sounds cheesy, but when I met you, my life found direction. I can’t thank you enough.”

Green eyes hold her in thrall, but Kara’s wary uncertainty is nowhere to be found. In its wake, she feels the warmth of honesty. This is her truth. Lena may not accept it, may not even want it, but she’s had a chance to speak it aloud, and that makes all the difference.

But as the silence persists, and Lena continues to stare, Kara feels it start to creep back in.

“Please say something,” she begs, throat tightening once more.

Lena’s throat bobs repeatedly as she swallows, features unreadable. When she finally clears her throat, with an ominous sense of finality, Kara braces herself for the return volley.

“Well,” she says slowly, “you’re right about one thing.”

Kara can barely breathe past the lump in her throat.

“That was definitely cheesy.”

A laugh rips out of Kara, a bark at first and then quickly rolling into unstoppable giggles. Lena’s fingers tighten on hers. When Kara’s laughter sputters to a stop, her smile lingers. Hope blooms in her chest when warm eyes continue to meet hers.

After a moment, Lena nods as fresh tears fill her eyes. “I don’t want to lose you either.”

“So then let’s talk,” Kara pleads. “Not right now, maybe not even today. But we’ll talk, and we’ll do our best to fix it. Together.”

Lena nods her agreement. She sniffles lightly, then coughs a laugh when Kara drapes the matching cloak over her bare shoulders.

“You’re sure this is okay?” Lena asks softly, running her fingers over the embroidery.

“It’s more than okay,” Kara promises.

It’s perfect.


	8. Chapter 8

Being on Argo exhausts Kara. Without the usual unending energy she’s used to, even their leisurely walk takes it out of her. She naps deeply almost as soon as they return to her mother’s home. When she wakes, the house lights have dimmed in respect for the late hour and her mother reads in a nearby seat.

Lena is nowhere to be found.

“She returned to your father’s lab,” Alura supplies, reading Kara’s searching glance with a mother’s accuracy. “Are you feeling more rested?”

Nodding, Kara scrubs her hands over her face and leans her elbows on her knees. Her neck feels stiff and muscles she didn’t know she had are making their presence painfully known. This was what it feels to be human, she realizes. To be aware of only one room at once, to feel aches that niggle at her with every shift– to tire.

This is what it feels to be Kryptonian, she realizes. This is what her life should have been.

“I’m sorry to sleep so much,” Kara offers. She pauses a beat, Lena’s voice echoing in her ears. She meets her mother’s gaze. “And I’m sorry I’ve avoided you.”

Surprise darts across Alura’s features, before she gently deactivates her datapad. “I had wondered.”

“I’m sorry,” Kara repeats. “It’s… there’s a lot of things I want to say to you. I just don’t know if they’re the right things.”

“Kara…” Her mother’s voice travels soft and gentle across the room. Kara stands to escape it, anxious and afraid.

“We found your hologram,” she says. “Three years ago. I’ve spoken to you almost every day since, but it was always the same answers. Or no answers at all. Like Astra. You– you used me, and you sent her to that  _ place –!!” _

Kara cuts herself of when her voice cracks. Tears burn in her eyes, but she refuses to let them fall. “Fort Rozz twisted her beyond recognition. She and Non would have killed all life on Earth if I hadn’t stopped them. And all I can think is that if you had simply _listened to her–!_ All of that could have been prevented. And maybe she’d still be alive. Here, with you. With me. Because then I wouldn’t have to leave.”

Alura doesn’t respond. She sits quietly, waiting for further accusations. Kara has them, feels them bubbling up, desperate to be heard, but locks her jaw tight against them.

Once she’s certain they won’t burst out of her, she takes a deep breath to continue. “I love you. And I am so, so happy you’re alive, but you have to understand that I have spent years talking at a hologram that was just a shell of you. And now that you’re here, I’m afraid to say the things I need to say.” Kara wipes furiously at her eyes, though her lashes remain dry.

“I’m afraid to hear what your answers may be.”

Kara stares at her feet. She doesn’t want to see her mother’s disappointment, or any other emotion. She’s ashamed to admit that she’d forgotten how expressive her mother’s features were. The hologram doesn’t even come close to matching it. It’s unsettling, to have it back so suddenly.

Still, when warm arms surround her in a hug, Kara melts into the embrace. Her own arms close around something tangible, a corporeal body that somehow, after everything, smells just like she remembers.

“We have a lifetime of conversation to catch up on, Kara,” her mother murmurs against her hair. “And I am willing to listen whenever you’re ready. I’ve made so many mistakes– what happened with my sister is only one. We can wait to talk until you’re ready, and when you are, I promise I will answer truthfully.”

Kara nods against her shoulder, fingers tightening on her mother’s dress.

“But in the meantime, I hope you understand that I just want to spend time with you. We’ve lost so much time already– I can’t stand to waste another moment.”

“I know. Me too. I just need time to wrap my head around… everything,” she pulls back with a weak laugh. Her mother lets her go, eyes glittering with tears of her own.

After a moment, Alura nods. “Perhaps you would like a moment to check on your friend? It’s getting late, and if she’s anything like your father, she’s already lost track of time.”

* * *

Alura’s suspicions are confirmed the moment Kara steps into her father’s laboratory. Every light in the place blazes with life, throwing the previously shadowed and dusty space into stark relief.

It doesn’t look forgotten any more.

For a split second, the shape that ducks out from underneath a console looks like her father, before black hair glints in the light. Lena shoos away a Kel-ex model and bends over the control panel.

“Hah!” she crows, smacking the console gently. “Told you it would work!”

“Told who?”

Lena jumps at the sound of Kara’s voice, pressing a hand to her chest as the alarm passes. “Jesus, Kara,” she huffs.

“Sorry.”

A pale hand waves the apology away as Lena turns back to the console. Kara can tell from the unique balance of hyperfocus and inattentiveness that Lena is in her element. Still, she’s able to carry a conversation while Kara crosses to join her.

“Your robot here said my idea wouldn’t work.”

“It is not the most efficient–”

“–application,” Lena finishes with a roll of her eyes. “Yes, you said that too. Except you don’t have the resources to fulfill the most efficient application, so unless you have something helpful to contribute, please stop talking.” Lena meets Kara’s eye. “I’m trying to get everything up and running before taking a stab at identifying it.”

Kara nods wordlessly, skimming the characters that pass across the console’s screen. Start up code. It really is working.

“You here to tell me you changed your mind?”

“What? No!” Kara grabs Lena’s wrist instinctively, shoulders bumping. “No, of course not. It is getting late though.”

“Oh.” Lena doesn’t say anything when Kara’s touch lingers. “You said earlier you were headed for the science guild. Wouldn’t you rather be the one doing this?”

The questions sears every nerve in Kara’s body, flashing white hot before going numb. Her throat locks tight, and she offers a shrug that turns into a shake of her head.

Lena doesn’t respond right away. When she does, her voice is low, and hesitant. “You know, I can’t help but feel that listening to me ramble on and on about L-Corp’s projects must have been pretty boring for you. Child’s play.” Lena shrugs herself. “You won’t hurt my feelings if you think you can do this better. You probably _can…”_

“No,” Kara says softly. “I don’t think I can. I mean, maybe thirteen years ago, but… what’s that saying? About the snake?”

Lena’s brow furrows in confusion, then smooths into understanding. “You mean trying to crawl into your old skin.”

Nodding, Kara runs her hands over the workstation. She can feel her father more keenly than she ever has before. On Earth, her wistful, embittered longings were usually for her mother, or the collective presence of her parents. But this room is so distinctively his that there’s no room for anyone else.

She wonders if he’d be disappointed in her.

“I’m not that person anymore,” she tells Lena, and the specter of her father. “Trying to force myself to be would feel…”

Wrong. Unnatural. A disservice to everything she is and does now. Kara can’t find the right word, but Lena nods.

“I understand,” she says softly.

“But that doesn’t mean you can’t,” Kara assures her. “I meant what I said. I trust you. With this and everything else.”

Lena inhales, and Kara braces herself for what she assumes is the continuation of their argument before. But Lena simply nods. “Okay.”

“I can help you translate,” Kara offers.

“I don’t think we’re just there yet, but I’ll definitely take you up on it later.” Lena nods towards the Kel-ex unit still hovering nearby. “This one gets condescending if you ask too many questions.”

Lena dips back under the console, collecting the tools she had left on the floor. From what Kara can see, there are still two consoles to bring to life.

“Lena… can I ask you a question?”

Drawing to her full height, Lena turns to face Kara. “Yes.”

“If I had told you who I was– if you’d known the truth all along… would you have still manufactured the Kryptonite?”

For a long moment, Lena doesn’t say anything. Kara senses that the answer is already on the tip of her tongue, and that the hesitation is more to decide whether honesty is still her best policy.

The silence is answer enough.

“Yes.”

While Lena doesn’t look at Kara, her voice is strong. Confident. Certain.

“But I would have told you.”


	9. Chapter 9

They don’t speak any more of the Kryptonite that evening in the lab, or the following morning at breakfast. In fact, they pretend their last conversation never happened. Partly because Kara doesn’t know how to react to Lena’s confession, and partly because Lena doesn’t know if she gave Kara the answer she wanted to hear.

In the meantime Lena keeps her promise to be civil. Kara tries to ignore the studying looks that Alura gives them when she thinks neither of her guests are looking.

By the time dinner at Thara’s rolls around, Kara hopes it will be a fun distraction, a break from the awkward atmosphere, but when she and Lena arrive, her stiffness only grips her tighter.

“Kara!” Thara exclaims upon opening the door.

From the corner of her eye, Kara can see Lena’s eyes narrow ever so slightly when Thara touches her heart with a respectful nod. It’s a reception Kara hasn’t seen in years– a deference to the crest against her own breast that she’d thought had died with her planet.

But the reverence passes with an enthusiastic embrace a moment later, and an equally warm welcome for Lena, who doesn’t mention the genuflect as their hosts begin to give them a tour of their home.

Kara feels that same friction as before– the memory of their close friendship grinding against the distance between her and Thara now. Her voice gets trapped somewhere behind the colliding realities, limiting her to nods and monosyllabic responses.

It doesn’t help that Thara takes advantage of the new audience to retell the story of her gazebo again, almost verbatim. It takes all of Kara’s control to keep from screaming in frustration, and does her best to tune it out. Whether Lena notices the change in her, Kara isn’t sure, but her friend turns on the charm and carries the majority of the conversation.

She carries it so much, in fact, that halfway through dinner Thara calls attention to it with a tinkling laugh.

“Well, Lena, I have to say you are far more engaging than I anticipated. The last guest Kara brought home was certainly polite but he was so, so– oh, what’s the word? Not unfriendly…”

“Taciturn,” Thara’s husband supplies, cracking a grin of his own.

“Taciturn! Yes!” Thara agrees, gesturing enthusiastically. “The man was so taciturn he barely said a word over dinner that wasn’t about the food!”

Lena glances to Kara in question.

“Mon-el,” she mumbles, hiding her flush by taking a sip of her wine.

“Ah,” Lena says softly, eyes lingering on Kara. “You mean my ex-fiance.”

Kara nearly inhales her drink, spluttering to clear her windpipe as green eyes glitter at her her in the low light.

Thara’s gaze bounces between them, alight with interest. “I’m sorry?”

With the smallest of winks, Lena’s eyes break away, affording Thara a grin. “Oh, yeah– Kara didn’t tell you? One minute I’m working in my lab with someone I think is trying to get home, and the next I’m waking up on a spaceship to Rhea telling me I’m going to marry her son.”

Thara hunches forward, eager to hear more. “I thought Daxam was destroyed with Krypton! They went to Earth?”

Lena nods. “Luckily, Supergirl came to my rescue,” she continues, sliding an indiscernable glance to Kara. “I made it home completely unmarried and the invasion ended a few days after that. The Daxamites left, and the planet is safe. Well– was. And is, again.”

“And does Earth often face such dire straits?” Thara asks.

“Often enough.” Lena’s voice turns soft. “But we’re in good hands.”

She doesn’t look at Kara this time, but Kara feels her meaning in the deepest reaches of her soul. Sipping her drink to hide her heating flush, Thara continues without notice.

“And the people of Earth live alongside aliens, every day?” Thara giggles as though it’s the funniest thing in the world. “I can scarcely fathom it! Krypton used to host the occasional foreign diplomat, but there was never such immigration.”

“It’s taken some getting used to, for a lot of people,” Lena confesses. “Myself included. I don’t know how Earth got a reputation as a refuge for alien indigents, but it’s certainly jarring when you consider our planet is dying. We’re consuming resources at a pace that far exceeds our ability to replace them, and we have war, famine, drought– so many of our own hardships that we have yet to solve. We can’t even help ourselves, and yet more and more aliens arrive every day, expecting to find a home with us and use even more of our dwindling resources.”

Kara sometimes forgets that Lena doesn’t understand. That the Luthor conservatism runs deep, disguised as pragmatism. Every time she’s reminded cuts deeper than the last, and tonight is no exception. She stares at her plate, rigid and unmoving, desperate to be the exception to her friend’s cynicism.

“But then I consider that Earth  _ isn’t _ the first choice for these people. We’re the hail mary– a last resort for people who have been displaced by war and genocide, driven from their homes in search of safety and stability elsewhere. To begrudge their desperation… that’s cruelty, plain and simple.”

A quiet falls over the table, and Kara hesitantly lifts her gaze. Lena reaches for her glass, cheeks pink with flush. When she speaks, she looks at no one in particular, but Kara knows it’s meant for her.

“I’ve not always been the most welcome of people new to Earth. I’ve been quick to judge, and slow to change.” She pauses, tilting her glass to watch the wine swirl inside. “But I’m trying to be better.”

Her eyes flash towards Kara, and the flush in her cheeks deepens suddenly. A giddy feeling swirls in Kara’s chest, pulling her lips into a smile she immediately tries to hide.

Lena shrugs, finally sipping from the glass still in her hand. “And who knows? Some of these people are coming from planets with science far beyond our own, vastly more educated than people on Earth. Maybe some of them could help us treat our home better, if we gave them the chance.”

“I imagine they would want to help the planet that helps them,” Thara chimes in. Her gaze bounces between them, holding Kara’s for just a second before sliding away. After that, talk turns menial, and Kara can get away with stealing glances at Lena and pretending she doesn’t feel Lena’s gaze whenever she looks away.

The night ends with final reassurances that “your gazebo is lovely, Thara, absolutely lovely” and a slow walk back to Alura’s house. Words bubble up in Kara’s throat, vague and formless but needing to be said. In the end, she defaults to mirth.

_ “Ex-fiance?”  _ she asks, nudging Lena’s shoulder with her own.

Lena nudges her back. “It’s technically true,” she says, utterly unapologetic. “And if I had to hear another word about that damn gazebo, I was going to lose my mind.”

Kara bursts out laughing.

“It was like sitting for tea with the board of the D.A.R.! What does it matter? Just turn the bench around so it faces the direction you want!”

Her laughter turning to cackle, Kara clutches Lena’s arm. Before she knows it, their elbows are looped together, and Lena presses against her side, warm and soft. Lena’s own chuckles fade.

“Sorry. I just didn’t realize that kind of mundanity spans the galaxy.”

“Yeah.” Kara blinks, and gazes into the dark reaches of the sky. Abruptly, she notices that despite lack of clouds that night, no stars twinkle down at them. “That might have been me, you know.”

“Hm?”

“Thara and I used to be the best of friends. If my parents hadn’t sent me to Earth… I might have had the same life she does.”

It’s hard to imagine. Being safe. Comfortable. Among the same people she’s known since birth. A guardian of peace, rather than an enforcer of justice. Unaware of anything that existed beyond Argo City. Unable to fathom that someone might wish another harm.

No CatCo. No DEO.

No Alex. No Mon-el.

No Lena.

Kara’s heart lurches when she realizes she wouldn’t trade. If she could choose life on Earth over life here on Argo with her mother and Thara— she would choose Earth, and all the unexpected blessings and hardships that came with it.

“Do you ever wonder?” Kara asks softly. She turns her gaze from the starless sky to Lena’s profile. “What might have been if you’d stayed with your mother?”

“My story is so different from yours, Kara. I don’t even remember what my birth mother looked like, let alone what kind of person she might have been. Whatever that life could have held for me… it was over before it ever started.”

The words rumble in Lena’s throat, her voice low and honest. She shrugs. “My what ifs aren’t about my adoption. Mine are… if my father had told me the truth about him and my mother, or if Superman hadn’t ever come to Earth. If my brother hadn’t changed so much. If I’d seen him spiralling, and reached out to him sooner.”

Kara smiles, and hugs Lena’s arm a little closer. “You’d still be the same person.”

Their eyes meet in the dark. Suddenly, they feel very close indeed. The stars may not grace the sky above, but they still shimmer in Lena’s eyes when she smiles.

“I think you would be too.”

“Yeah?”

Lena hums. “You still wouldn’t give a shit about that gazebo.”


	10. Chapter 10

“Do you really think aliens can help Earth?”

After Thara’s, they gravitate back to Zor-el’s lab, still in their dinner outfits. Kara sits on an empty bench, watching Lena resume her work. 

The question pops out of her without her really meaning it to. Neither of them mind the quiet, and frankly Kara doesn’t really want to know if Lena actually meant what she said, or whether it was just lip service.

Lena hums, not taking her gaze from the datapad she’s hooked up to one of the consoles. “They already are.”

Kara flushes. “Right.”

“Oh. No, I meant the transmat portal.” Now it’s Lena’s turn to blush. “Once we’ve found a way to ensure uninvited visitors won’t be able to hijack it, I still anticipate we can implement a network on a smaller, global scale to aid relief efforts in places of famine and crises. And I’m pretty sure the harun'el is the key to sustainable clean energy. I’ve been testing–”

“You’ve been what?” Every fiber of Kara’s being tightens at once. 

Lena doesn’t break stride in the slightest. “I’ve been running further tests on the sample–”

“You were supposed to surrender all generated material to my mother before she returned to Argo,” Kara snaps. Her good mood from dinner is gone, vanished in an instant. 

“A decision made without my input– or notification,” Lena fires back. Her voice is calm and even, but no less even. 

“So when you listened to my mother and I worry about the dangers of the black Kryptonite–”

“Mentioning it didn’t feel appropriate–”

“So, what– more secrets? That’s great, Lena. Just great.”

_ “Ahem.” _

Kara turns to face Lena, and finds her friend’s hands spread wide to indicate not only the lab around them, but the city beyond— and everything that had come with it. A dark eyebrow lifts expectantly, and Kara feels herself deflate. Her quick anger evaporates, knowing she doesn’t have a leg to stand on. 

“Right,” she mutters. “Okay. Fine.”

“I knew you wouldn’t react well, and I thought having a peaceful goodbye with your mother was more important than clearing air that was already cloudy between us. I’m telling you now.”

“I said okay.”

“That word is meaningless, no matter how many times you say it.” Lena scoffs, a mirthless, derisive smile twisting her features. “But I guess I shouldn’t be surprised at this point.”

Kara can’t help the frustrated sigh that escapes her as she senses a familiar argument starting up again. “It’s not that simple, Lena–”

“You know what echoes in my brain every time you say you trust me?” Lena cuts in. 

“What?”

“The day we went to find Sam in the dark valley, I asked you for your real name. I didn’t expect you to answer, because we’re all entitled to keep secrets.”

“That’s different–”

“Is what you could have said,” Lena finishes drolly, before her gaze hardens. “But instead you looked me in the eye and told me it wasn’t a great question for a Luthor to ask someone in your family.’”

Guilt twists Kara’s insides, just like it did when she’d first said the words. She’d regretted it even then, but hadn’t been able to dodge the question without it.

“And you know what? It sucked for Supergirl to say that in the first place, after everything I’d already done to help her and everyone else, but I understood. She didn’t know me that well. But now that I know the truth I know that she  _ did _ know me that well! I didn’t know who you were, but  _ you _ knew  _ me _ , and it wasn’t just a superhero doubting me, it was my best friend!”

Lena shakes her head before Kara can even try to respond, gesturing sharply with one hand as her arms fold around her. 

“And you can try to pretend that Kryptonite is the one thing that you can’t abide, but we both know that’s just another lie.”

“That is  _ not–” _

"What did you do with the Kryptonite I surrendered, Kara?” Lena demands sharply. “You sure as hell didn’t destroy it like I expected you to. You didn’t incinerate it with your heat vision, or fling it into space… you gave it to your  _ sister _ . Your problem isn’t the Kryptonite, it’s that I have it. Even now, when I tell you that the harun’el could be the key to saving Earth from itself, all you can see is more Kryptonite in the hands of a Luthor.”

Kara doesn’t respond. She can’t. She wants to scream that it’s not about Lena’s family, it’s about them, their friendship, and the lies, all the lies. But if she does, she’ll just be adding one more falsehood to the mix. Because Lena’s right. Of course she is.

“You can heap all the trust on me you want, genuine or otherwise,” Lena continues, tossing her datapad aside with an irreverent clatter. “But maybe the bigger question is why exactly _I_ should trust _you.”_

She brushes past Kara on her way towards the door. She doesn’t look back.

After she changes for bed, Kara hovers in the doorway of Lena’s room. With her eyes closed against the low light, Lena lays motionless across her bed with her hands folded over her stomach. She looks almost like she’s sleeping, but Kara can feel the anger that simmers beneath the surface of her peaceful repose.

“I wish you’d stop walking away from me.”

For moment, the only indication that Lena’s heard her is the slowing of her breath. Then her eyes open, focusing on the ceiling above. When she doesn’t demand solitude, Kara enters the rest of the way, and sits on the edge opposite Lena. When she lays back, their heads nearly align.

There’s nothing on the ceiling to hold her attention like it has Lena’s, so Kara turns her gaze to her friend’s inverted profile.

“I don’t know how we’re going to be honest with each other if you keep turning your back as soon as you decide the conversation is done. Or how we’re going to move forward if you don’t give me a chance to respond.”

Lena doesn’t answer. Lena doesn’t look at her. Lena continues to stare at the ceiling, taking slow, even breaths. This close, Kara can hear each one, and knows that they fill her lungs with every inhalation.

Kara turns her gaze back to the ceiling, and waits.

“You keep asking for honesty,” Lena murmurs. “It’s hard to give that to you when I feel like I’m one slip away from ruining everything for good.”

“You’re allowed to be angry, Lena.” Kara ignores the soft scoff that answers her. “I know you are, and I don’t want to imagine what you must think of me. I’d rather you just tell me.”

Lena shakes her head. “You don’t want that.”

“Yes, I do!” Kara lifts her hand instinctively, ready to reach for a hand or a shoulder– anything. But their awkward positions across the mattress leaves nothing in reach but the ends of Lena’s hair. Kara lets her fingers brush against the soft strands. “Lena, please–”

“I think you’re selfish. And a liar, and a hypocrite, and you took advantage of our friendship– something I valued more than anything else.” Once the words start pouring out of her, they don’t stop. “I think you’re cruel– for letting me believe a lie for so long. For letting me believe that you were different from everyone else.”

Lena’s voice wavers, matching the wobble of Kara’s vision as tears fill her eyes.

“You want me to hate you, because if I am it justifies all of your lies and secrets. And I think it’s insulting that you insist that I be honest with you when you can’t even manage to be honest with yourself!”

Lena’s breath rattles in the quiet that follows. Kara tries not to react. She asked to hear it. She knows Lena needed to say it, if they were going to have any hope of moving forward. That doesn’t keep every word from cutting into her like knives of kryptonite.

“And I hate that every kind word from you now feels like a lie, because I can no longer tell the difference. I never did.”

Unable to respond, Kara swallows thickly. In that moment she realizes that the very space she begged Lena to close just moments before is the very thing she needs. She lingers out of spite, forcing herself to stay put and accept every stab of Lena’s words, and let them find their mark.

Lena’s head turns towards her, and when their eyes meet Kara finds brimming tears to match her own.

“What do you have to say to that, Supergirl?”

Her tone spoils for a fight, waiting for the same hate she expects Kara to expect from her. Retorts and accusations bubble up inside Kara before falling away unspoken. Seconds tick past, one by one, as Kara reaches for something to say, certain of only one thing: if she responds in anger or hurt, she’ll lose Lena for good.

She holds Lena’s gaze, and feels her chest tremble as she takes a breath to speak. 

“Thank you,” she murmurs softly. “For sharing this with me.” 

She speaks the truth now, and it helps soothe the sting of Lena’s words. Lena blinks, and somehow the tears in her eyes stay put. Kara offers a soft smile before climbing to her feet. It’s a concession, to grant Lena the distance she’d just admonished a minute ago. But Kara can’t deny she needs it– to think, and absorb– to find the words she wants to say. 

At the threshold, she pauses and forces three more words past the lump in her throat. "Good night, Lena.”

When she leaves, she closes the door behind her.


	11. Chapter 11

The next day, Lena rises early again, and Kara finds her already halfway through breakfast when she descends the stair mid-morning. Their eyes meet briefly, but not a word passes between them as Kara reaches for a plate and one of the han'a bread Alura left.

When she sits across from Lena, the silence turns heavy. Lena twists her cup against the table surface, throat working visibly as she swallows.

“Last night…”

“No, Lena,” Kara says quickly. “No, I– I needed to hear it. And as much as I would prefer you to _not_  be right sometimes, you are right. About everything.”

Lena nods. This time, the quiet doesn’t feel quite so burdensome. Kara picks at her breakfast, but her appetite doesn’t rise to the occasion. Her younger self would gasping in horror if she could see.

Her younger self would be horrified by so many things in Adult Kara’s thoughts.

“I thought I might go to the Council today,” she says. “Visit my mother.”

“I’ll go back to the lab. The Kal-ex can translate if I run into anything.” Her gaze falls away, but her features hint at more worry. “Kara…”

“Yes?”

“Have you…” Lena trails off, and Kara feels her heart sink at her apprehension. She knows from just last night that Lena always has the words she wants– she just hesitates to say them.

“Have I what?”

“Have you thought about what to do if I find something you don’t like?”

Green eyes rivet Kara to the spot. She swallows. “What do you mean?”

“Your father engineered the virus my mother tried to unleash on National City.” Lena pauses, but when she continues, her voice remains low in her throat, gentle and careful. “I know it’s not comfortable to consider, but it’s likely that if he made one weapon like that, he has more stashed away in those consoles.”

Kara remembers Myriad, and the way her father’s hologram had so calmly explained how genocide was a necessary resource. Just in case. She knows Lena is right.

“If there are… are you prepared to hand them over to the people who likely commissioned them in the first place?”

Kara’s blood runs cold. A familiar weight settles over her shoulders, and the budding levity of a fight behind them evaporates at the prospect of an all new conflict on the horizon. Her throat aches: this was supposed to be easy. This was supposed to be a visit, a reconnection to her past– to normalcy.

Responsibility chased her across the galaxy. Even here, without her powers, without her cape, life and death balances on her judgement.

Still, she can’t find the anger that Lena is clearly bracing for. Kara swallows and meets Lena’s eye.

“Care for a walk?”

Dark eyebrows lift ever so slightly. “A walk?”

Kara gestures behind her. “In the garden…”

With a nod, Lena sets aside her cup and rises to join her. Alura’s garden is more extensive than Kara anticipates. They walk along narrow gravel paths with shoulders brushing, as pale morning light filters down on them to dapple ornate patterns against the broad leafy fronds of the plants that line the path.

Kara’s thoughts continue to spool, and even by the time they finally sit on a bench in the heart of the garden, she still has no answer. Lena doesn’t rush her. She sits in silence on the bench next to Kara, and waits until Kara speaks.

“What did you do?” she asks.

Lena blinks, clearly unprepared for the calm question lobbed in her direction. Only her head turns to face Kara. “You mean…”

“After Lex.”

Lena shifts in her seat. “I terminated his defense contracts, at a significant loss. Gutted Luthor Corp’s internal R&D department of any project that was blatantly weaponized–”

“But not everything.”

Lena looks at her, gaze heavy. “Kara…”

“I’m not accusing you–”

“The Kryptonite is mine. Only mine.” Lena leans back in her seat. “Lex’s research was flawed, so I started from scratch.”

“But… why?”

“You threw Cat Grant off a balcony,” Lena reminds her. Kara flinches, then climbs to her feet. Lena remains seated, giving Kara space to pace. “If Supergirl did that to her staunchest supporter– what might she do with a Luthor in town?”

Lena glances at her, and the raw honesty takes Kara by surprise.

“I never hoped to need it,” she continues, “but I had to know that I could make it, if the worst ever happened.”

“Don’t you realize that the only reason I ever tried to harm Cat was because I was exposed to flawed Kryptonite?!” she exclaims, raking her fingers agitatedly through her hair. “Maxwell Lord tried and failed to manufacture Kryptonite and it altered my brain chemistry. BOTH times my cousin or I were a threat to National City, it was because of Kryptonite.  It’s more of a danger than a security!”

“Okay, first of all?” Lena retorts, voice hardening, “Maxwell Lord is an idiot. And secondly, neither of those incidents were the fault of me or my family. The threat is there regardless of anything I do. All I can do is try to mitigate the damage done as a result.”

Kara scoffs, and Lena’s features harden.

“Wouldn’t you rather the solution be in the hands of some you trust?”

"That’s what the DEO is for–”

“The DEO is a government agency, Kara!” Lena surges to her feet, bristling. “You do know that your director is not the top of the food chain, right?”

"President Marsden would never–”

“President Marsden nearly lost the last election to a borderline-sentient Cheeto. Next time we may not be so lucky. Are you really comfortable with someone like HIM having the final say on how Kryptonite is used?”

Hearing the conservative platform had shocked Kara two years ago, and she’d watched in anxious horror on election night as polling precincts reported neck-and-neck results until Marsden finally pulled ahead. In two years, the President will face another battle just like it, and this time– she may not win.

Kara grits her teeth at the thought. J'onn would never let Kryptonite be used against her unnecessarily.

It won’t be his call. Lena’s eyes implore her to understand.

In that moment, she does.

Kara scrubs her face with a huff that she immediately tries to play off as a laugh. Lena doesn’t buy it.

“I’m sorry,” Lena says, voice softening. Wrapping her arms around herself, she suddenly looks out of place, in her slacks and buttoned blouse. “But we don’t have the luxury of burying our heads in the sand.”

“I know…”

“I hope you understand…I do want what’s best for you, Kara.” Lena shrugs, and for the first time, Kara can see the helplessness in the gesture. “I never hoped to need it. But we did.”

“What if it’s me next time?” Kara swallows hard against the lump in her throat. “What if it’s me that you deem a threat?”

Green eyes flash with hurt. Lena’s lips thin, pressing tightly together as she shrugs again, more helpless than the last.

“What if it is?”

The echo stabs between Kara’s ribs. Her throat locks, and she watches as eyes glitter in Lena’s tears as her friend shifts uncomfortably on her feet. This time, the silence between them is sharp and rigid, thick enough to cut with a knife.

Lena recovers first.

“Let me know what you decide about your father’s projects,” she says quietly. She turns back to the house, and in the next moment Lena’s gone. Kara’s alone.

After a year of solitude, it should be a comfort.

It isn’t.

* * *

Lena doesn’t return for lunch, but Alura does. Kara’s still in the garden when her mother comes looking for her.

“Kara?” Alura emerges from the house, smile quickly melting to concern when she sees the glum set of Kara’s features. “Sweetheart? Is anything wrong?”

Kara wants to shout. She wants to rant and scream but all that comes out is a ragged sigh. She scrubs her hands over her face, and when she opens her eyes once more her mother has taken Lena’s seat beside her.

“Honey… whatever is bothering you, I hope you know that you can tell me.” Alura’s hand closes on her wrist in invitation. “If you would like to.”

The impulse to spill her guts flashes briefly across Kara’s mind, but evaporates just as quickly. She simply takes a deep breath, and lifts her chin to stare out across the garden.

“Medusa.”

Her mother stiffens beside her. “How do you…”

“The Fortress of Solitude has quite a bit of information,” Kara says, slumping back in her seat. “I admit it was shocking to see Father’s hologram explain how he devised a means to commit genocide.”

“Kara–”

“He always told me his work helped people. I sat in that lab, and I watched him work for hours and hours, believing he was changing the world for the better. But that wasn’t true. At all. He was brewing death in a bottle while our planet was dying.”

Alura gazes at her, meeting Kara’s anguish with calm regard. She doesn’t protest– Kara almost wishes she would. It would make her anger feel more justified, less hysterical.

“We were never perfect, Kara. Our people made mistakes, that’s certain. I’m certainly not innocent in everything that happened. But I think we’ve paid the price for our hubris.”

“Krypton’s destruction isn’t retribution for its peoples’ sins, and certainly not for our family’s,” Kara snaps back, gesturing sharply. “Losing our planet and our people doesn’t absolve us. We don’t get to call it a wash. We have to survive, and live with the weight of our mistakes, or we’re doomed to repeat it.”

Her mother nods. “I agree.”

Tears burn at Kara’s eyes, and her lips pull involuntarily, threatening to spill her turmoil into the open. “On Earth, our crest is merchandise. Humans wear it on clothing, and keychains, and backpacks. I hated it, because it wasn’t theirs. Because they wore it without knowing what it meant. But the truth is– when I first put on my cape, I was the one who didn’t know what it meant.”

Her chest seizes, and it takes long moments before it unlocks enough for her to continue.

“I still hate it,” she whispers. “Because they still don’t know the truth. But I do. And I’m ashamed.”

Alura reaches for her again, but Kara climbs to her feet. She can’t breathe. Her mother’s compassionate understanding feels claustrophobic, and Kara doesn’t know if she gets it. Not really. She can’t read her mother. She never could.

“Excuse me,” she says quickly, clearing her throat. “I have to go see Lena. Now. I have to go.”

Her thoughts buzz as she walks the short path to her father’s laboratory. She doesn’t need her mother’s advice– after half a lifetime of imagining what her mother would say to her, she knows her mother would leave the decision to the council.

Kara doesn’t trust them. Not when their most prestigious member personally led the assault on Earth. Not when Argo came so closer to dying without Lena’s help manufacturing the harun’el. Not when a desperate people on a dying rock has the means to destroy planets, to raze entire worlds and shape a new Krypton from the ashes.

Kara bursts into her father’s laboratory with her heart in her throat, and interrupts Lena without preamble.

“How close are you to finishing the archival?”

Lena glances at her datapad. “As far as I can tell, we’re at about 70% extraction. I’m not entirely sure what everything is, but–”

“I’m going to help you go through it,” Kara says forcefully. “Piece by piece.”

Lena regards her solemnly. “Are you sure?”

“My family has made mistakes. So have I. I won’t be blind to it any longer, and I won’t let my father’s legacy be used for murder.”

The lab falls quiet. She’s forgotten how still the place could be, and even with Lena’s steadfast presence, a sense of eeriness creeps over Kara. She wonders if her father is somehow watching.

She wonders what he’d say, to hear her say such things. The hologram had tried to justify Medusa, claiming it a necessary deterrent, but– was there any part of him that wished he hadn’t done it?

Kara won’t ever know. Maybe there was. But even if there wasn’t– Kara can still honor his memory by making a better choice.

“When we get back to Earth, I’ll make sure the DEO returns the Kryptonite it confiscated. I hope we can still share information about it as you continue to study it, but… I should never have made that demand in the first place.”

“Kara…”

Every inch of her shakes, but she holds Lena’s gaze, undaunted.

“I’ve made a lot mistakes as Supergirl, Lena, and not trusting you is the worst of them. I won’t repeat that mistake. And I won’t let Krypton repeat theirs either. I’ll burn this lab to the ground if I have to.”

A gleam of recognition warms Lena’s gaze. Kara can’t quite tell what sparks it, but it fills her with new surety. Emboldened, she closes the distance between them, and extends one hand.

“Will you help me?”

A warm palm settles in Kara’s.

“Yes,” Lena vows. “I will.”


	12. Chapter 12

They don’t return to the house that night.

Once Kara makes her decision, she commits to it with a determination befitting Supergirl. Lena warms up to it– like it’s familiar, recognizable. They work side by side at the console. Lena extracts the information from the long dormant machines, and Kara translates.

To her relief, it isn’t all projects like Medusa. Some of it is research to improve waste reclamation systems, design better energy generators. Lena says the latter may increase the harun'el output as much as 20% above existing levels.

But as they dig deeper, the water grows murkier. An agricultural project that on the surface appears to be engineering a blight-resistant crop leads them to an attempt to weaponize the blight. Kara translates the general concept, but Lena reads the data contained therein easily enough.

“They were developing a cross-genus vector, to infect multiple ecosystems simultaneously,” Lena extrapolates in a low voice. “If they’d succeeded it could have poisoned an entire planet.”

Kara swallows. “Did they finish it?”

“No,” Lena tells her. “But they were close.”

The relief that follows is marginal. “Scrub it,” Kara clips out, fists pressing tightly against the console. “The crop files too.” Just in case.

As her fingers tap on her datapad, Lena slides her a sideways glance. “You should know… I don’t know this system well enough to hide our tracks, here. If the council notices the missing projects and come looking, they’ll know it was us.”

Kara cuts a wry, mithless smile. “What are they going to do? Exile me?”

“Kara…”

“Lena.”

Lena pauses briefly, then resumes her task, keeoing her gaze focused on the tablet. “How does it feel?”

“How does what feel?”

“Knowing your mother is proud of you.”

Folding her arms across her chest, Kara eases back, bristling at the implication she knows is there but can’t quite discern. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Green eyes glance at her briefly. “I didn’t mean…” Lena straightens, hugging the datapad loosely to her chest. “Lillian only ever said she was proud of my achievements when it suited her. It was never genuine. Before, I used to be jealous that you’d had as much time with your parents as you did– you had memories to infer how they might react to the life you’ve made for yourself. And now you have a flesh and blood parent gushing over your exploits. So I was just wondering if it feels like you imagined. I didn’t mean to suggest anything by it.”

_ Oh. _ Kara shifts on her feet, letting her arms drop. “Honestly… It’s strange. I don’t really know how I feel about it.”

Lena doesn’t say anything.

“I mean, it’s great, I guess. A relief. But at the same time, now that I know some of what she’s done, what father’s done– a part of me wonders if earning their pride is a good thing.”

Her throat locks around the words. She dismisses them with a shrug, but Lena continues gazing at her, an indiscernable expression on her face.

“What?”

Lena blinks, then smiles. “Welcome to the club.”

Kara huffs a small laugh, and bumps Lena with her shoulder. Just like that, the heaviness lifts, only to slam back down when Lena finishes her task and presents the datapad to her. A simple yes/no selection screen blinks up at Kara.

“Last chance to change your mind,” Lena warns as Kara accepts the pad with numb fingers.

She hesitates for only a moment before selecting yes. Code immediately unravels before her eyes, before the screen flickers back to the main project list. She hands the pad back with a lofty arch of her brow.

“Bring it on.”

* * *

When they finish, they emerge from the lab to find it night again. Kara’s stomach growls audibly. Before she has a chance to be embarrassed, Lena’s stomach rumbles a response.

“Food,” Kara states unnecessarily.

Her limbs feel leaden, and not for the first time, Kara envies Lena’s human stamina. She watches her friend deftly pull out plates and glasses and rummage in Alura’s cupboards for leftovers like she hasn’t just spent 26 hours working nonstop.

_ Like she lives there. _

The thought slams into Kara without warning. She reels back as though struck, and Lena looks up at her with worried, gentle eyes.

“Kara? You okay?”

Kara’s vision blurs with sudden tears, even as she nods. “Yeah,” she croaks. “I’m just gonna…” She waves vaguely towards the garden. “I need some air.”

She escapes without waiting for a response. Staggering into the moonless night, she sucks in breath after breath. She hates how weak she feels, the way her legs shake and her chest feels heavy. Most of all, she hates the way her heart races at the idea of Lena at home on Argo.

Lena’s footsteps rasp softly on the stone terrace behind her, and then suddenly the sense of Lena’s presence washes over her. Kara can feel the warmth of body heat as Lena steps in beside her, reaching to brush a single finger along the outside of Kara’s hand in invitation.

Kara takes it, turning her palm to seal their hands together in a tight grip.

“I’m okay,” she grinds out.

Lena nods. “Big day,” she agrees.

They stand in silence for long moments before Lena leans in and hugs Kara’s arm closer. “I know it probably doesn’t mean much, coming from me, but… I think you made the right choice.”

Kara’s next breath comes in a violent shudder. She hates the bone-deep weariness, and the fact that she couldn’t even visit her mother without having the weight of worlds on her shoulders. But more than anything else, she hates that their friendship has grown so fragile.

She hates that she’s made Lena feel as though her opinion means less than  _ everything _ to her.

With another hitch of her breath, Kara’s thin control splinters even further. She turns into Lena’s shoulder, and to her surprise, Lena receives her readily. Soft arms wrap around Kara, and the press of Lena’s head against hers feels like a promise.

“I’m sorry.” Kara’s words escape in a sharp whine, strangled by the lump in her throat.

“It’s okay,” Lena murmurs gently. “It’s going to be okay.”


	13. Chapter 13

Lena holds Kara until she stops shaking. Kara doesn’t actually cry (thank Rao), but somehow she feels even more exhausted. After another moment, Lena gives her arm a quick rub.

“Come on. Food, then bed.”

They eat in silence, then retreat to their respective bedrooms. Kara falls into an exhausted slumber as soon as her head hits the pillow.

She wakes near midday, and once again Lena is already downstairs. The only allowance she seems to have made to their late night is a lack of lipstick, and for a moment it feels like the tail end of one of their movie nights.

“Hey.” Kara breaks the silence. Lena hums an acknowledgement. “You want to have a pizza night when we get back?”

Dark eyebrows lift, and Kara can see the gears turning behind Lena’s gaze. Lena’s chest lifts sharply, a retort bubbling to the surface– but then she deflates, whatever cutting response she’d planned evaporating into the midday sun.

“Sure.”

Kara beams. “Really?”

“Yeah. Why not.” Lena sounds resigned to her fate, but her lips curl upwards despite her tone.

“Okay. Cool. Great!” Kara fishes out another han'a loaf and shoves it into her mouth. “We should go to the Council–”

“What’s that?” Lena cuts in. “I can’t hear you over the sound of mastication.”

Kara coughs a laugh, just barely managing to keep crumbs from spewing across the table. She swallows and tries again.

“We should go to the Council today. I want to give them the data as soon as possible. Give us more time to explore.”

“I mentioned to your mother that we finished last night,” Lena informs her. “She asked us to hold onto it until tomorrow. There’s some sort of ceremony being prepared before we leave– I think she wants to do everything then.”

Huh. That’s… strange. She hasn’t heard anything about a ceremony. But it works for her. She shrugs. “Okay.”

“We can explore today if you want.”

Kara nods around another mouthful of bread. “Definitely. And while we do, you can explain to me how humans function on so little sleep.”

To Kara’s surprise, Lena wears her Kryptonian dress. When they step out onto the busy causeway, they’re immediately swallowed by the crowd. For the first time since coming back, she feels normal.

A glance at her friend hints that Lena might be enjoying her anonymity just as much.

They ride follow the tide of bodies until a flash of color catches Kara’s eye. She squints, and when her half-hidden target doesn’t grow any clearer, she remembers her x-ray vision is gone. She has to wait to get closer, and as they do the sound of music and laughing voices washes over them.

“Looks like a street festival…” Lena observes.

Kara turns her chin to look at her friend, and soon finds herself studying the way Lena’s nose slopes just so, the curve of her mouth, and the sparkle in her eye as she studies the banners and signs all around them.

“They all say the same thing… those few in the middle look familiar. What does it say?”

“Hm?”

“What does the banner sa–”

Lena turns her chin towards her, and her cheek collides with Kara’s lips.

_ What? _

They both freeze, for a fraction of a heartbeat, before Lena gives a little shake. Apprehension jolts down Kara’s spine. She covers it with a quick, bright smile, hoping it will diffuse the sudden tension and return Lena’s easy smile

Instead, Lena’s expression shutters at the sight of it. She takes several jagged breaths before she can speak.

“Don’t do that.”

Then she’s gone, melting into the crowd before Kara can say a word. Shock and hurt and dread root Kara to the spot, until she realizes Lena is  _ gone _ . She dives into the crowd after her, but tracking someone is hard without superhearing.

Just as she’s about to ask a stall vendor if they saw stranger blow past, Kara catches a glimpse of blue robes disappearing inside the communal greenhouse. She gathers her skirt and runs, slipping in after Lena before the door even has time to shut.

The ferns are just as green as they were on her last visit. Here in the cultivated garden they grow dense and vibrant, absorbing the sound of her ragged breathing and hiding Lena from view. The very air feels reverant, among the lost plants of Krypton.

Kara follows the path at a walk. Her heart pounds like thunder in her chest, and when she finally spies Lena standing on the short wooden bridge at the heart of the greenhouse, Kara feels it stutter.

Lena turns away as she approaches, hiding her face. “Kara please, just– just go away.”

“I’m sorry,” Kara offers. Her feet remain firmly in place as her mind searches for some kind of excuse. “I didn’t mean–”

“I know,” Lena scoffs bitterly. “You never do.”

Instead of the absolution Kara hopes for, bitterness hones Lena’s voice into a devastating edge. Apprehension gnaws at Kara, eroding the progress they almost made towards normal.

“I shouldn’t have– I don’t know what I was–”

“You want to be friends.”

Lena finally meets her gaze, and Kara swallows thickly at the sight of tears on the verge of spilling over. She nods. “Yes. Of course I do–”

Except… she doesn’t. This trip to Argo has woken something in Kara, something she didn’t know she wanted. Lena’s smile ghosts across her mind’s eye, the image of Lena in her kitchen sipping tea, rummaging through cupboards. The feel of Lena pressed against her side on a moonlit night, among her mother’s flowers.

“I’ve lied to you, Kara.” Lena wipes her eyes roughly, before gripping the bridge rail with both hands. “I’m still lying to you.”

“I haven’t exactly made it easy for you to be honest with me,” Kara allows. She steps closer, but stops short of touching. Lena radiates bristling energy, like her grip on the rail is the only thing keeping her from bolting again. “You can tell me now, if you want.”

“Our friendship–” Lena’s voice grinds to a stop in her throat, and she tries again. “It’s never been a friendship. Not to me.”

Hurt lances through Kara’s chest, and now it’s her turn for her vision to cloud with tears. She chews on her lip, desperate to keep her expression neutral. “Okay.”

“I know I should have told you but I was grateful to have what little of you that I did, and I didn’t want to risk scaring you off, and I told myself it didn’t matter as long as you–”

“Lena.” Through the dread, a tiny thread of hope sparked to life. “Do you have feelings for me?”

Lena freezes. Her mouth works silently, before shutting with a click. She turns away, staring sightlessly into the small brook moving lazily under the bridge.

“It’s fine. You don’t have to feel the same– I know you don’t and it’s fine. It’s  _ fine _ . But you can’t just… you can’t  _ do _ that!”

“You have feelings for me?” Kara repeats dumbly.

Shoulders lift in a helpless shrug, and mirthless smile. “Of course,” escapes in a whisper. Pink lips press together to hide their tremble. “Why else do you think all of this has hurt so much?”

“Lena…”

“You don’t have to say anything.” A scoffing laugh follows. “In fact,  _ please _ don’t say anything.”

“Not even to say me too?”

The world seems to stop as the words register in Lena’s mind. “Don’t say that just because–”

“It’s true!” Kara blurts. The dam inside her breaks, and words start flooding out of her. “I didn’t know what it was, I never thought that… I feel a little silly, actually.”

Lena rolls her eyes, giving them a surreptitiois wipe with the edge of one finger. “Silly.”

“Not silly for feeling them, and not silly for feeling them for you.” Kara’s reaches for Lena’s hand, trailing a finger along the edge of a pale wrist. Lena doesn’t pull away. “I feel silly that I didn’t put it together sooner.”

“Really.” Her disbelief is audible.

“Feeling so hurt about the kryptonite. Being utterly incapable of separating Kara and Supergirl when I’m with you. Wanting to tell you everything– wanting you to be the first person I tell it to.”

Lena looks surprised, but doesn’t respond. Kara continues with a smile. “I look forward to our time together more than anything else. And I get jealous when I have to share that time with others.”

At that, Lena seems to shake herself awake, and indignation flashes across her features. "You’ve avoided me for months!“

"I know.” Kara doesn’t bother to pretend otherwise. But she can explain why. “When I made the decision that ended Mon-el’s life on Earth… when I held that remote in my hand, I almost… didn’t.”

She hasn’t admitted this to anyone. Not to Alex. Not to J'onn. She told them that making the decision meant she couldn’t be human anymore. She didn’t tell them it was really the fact that she almost couldn’t make the decision.

“That hesitation almost doomed the entire planet. When it was over I knew I couldn’t afford to risk making that mistake again, so I tried to bury the part of me that  _ needed _ that connection. I tried to let Kara Danvers go.”

Lena stares at her, eyes wide and quiet. “And I was only friends with Kara Danvers.”

“You were the only person who could keep Kara Danvers alive. That’s why I stayed away as long as I did.”

Reaching just a little bit further, Kara hooks her fingertips over the edge of Lena’s palm. It’s Lena to turns her palm to receive her the rest of the way.

“That should have been my second clue,” Kara tries to joke, but there’s too much truth for it to be funny. Suddenly, the moment feels all the more intimate. Before she registers her own intentions, Kara’s free hand lifts to touch Lena’s cheek.

It starts with fingertips, then her whole palm when Lena turns into the touch. The skin under Kara’s palm is so soft, so warm… and she can  _ feel _ it. On Earth even a firm hug feels distant, a combination of her powers and the fear of harming anyone she touched. But here…

Here, she can feel the muscles in Lena’s jaw, and the quiver of her lips. The gentle touch fills every inch of Kara– from the top of her head, to the tips of her toes.

She wants more.

“I am so sorry, Lena.”

Lena’s eyes dip to Kara’s mouth, and Kara obliges all too readily.

Their lips collide in the gentlest of meetings. Anything more feels as though it will shatter the moment. Lena’s hand finds Kara’s waist, giving a single plaintive rub before falling still. Kara savors the touch.

Then, Lena’s lips still against hers. The hand on her waist firms, then presses ever so slightly. Kara immediately pulls away, touching her tingling lips self-consciously.

_ Oh, Rao. _

She looks to Lena, and her heart breaks at the tears pinched from eyes squeezed shut. Her own chest tightens against a sudden sob.

“Lena…”

“It still feels… like a trick.”

_ No. _ “No, it isn’t. Lena, it isn’t!”

“You say that, but I can’t just– I can’t just turn it off.”

Kara pulls Lena’s hands to her chest. “Do you trust me?”

Lena scoffs mirthlessly. “That’s not a great question for a Super to ask someone in my family.”

She can’t help the flinch that hunches her shoulders, but Kara can’t begrudge the jab. She’s earned it. She knows that. But she doesn’t let go. “Do you trust me enough to go somewhere with me, right now?”

A tremulous nod is all the answer she needs. Kara echoes it with one of her. “Follow me.”

She guides Lena out of the greenhouse, and back onto the causeway, fighting the flow of traffic until they reach the remains of the Hall of Truth.

There on the steps, Kara turns to face Lena. Their linked hands have yet to break contact. Their palms are sweaty, and they both breathe heavily.

Kara can feel the eyes catch on them– in fact she’s counting on it. But for a long moment she has eyes only for Lena. She holds her gaze, begging for just a little more trust.

“Citizens of Krypton!”

Kara pitches her voice above the bustle of the crowd. It carries across the square, and almost immediately a quiet starts to settle over them.

Pulling in another breath, she continues. “Citizens of Krypton, please attend me!”

The words pull from her memory, and these at least, she knows are correct. Children tug at their parents’ hands, curious and unaware of the gravity of the scene unfolding before them. But their parents recognize the call to witness, and stand by in solemn testament.

Meanwhile, Lena’s eyes grow wide, and wider still when a Kel-ex unit slows to a hover nearby. Through its visual sensors, what follows next will be broadcast across the entire city, and archived for all posterity.

_ Just a little more trust, _ Kara urges silently.

Though her cheeks redden under the attention, Lena doesn’t quite pull away.

“I, Kara Zor-el of the Great House of El, have done great insult to you, Lena Luthor of Earth. I have called your honor and loyalty into question without cause, and I have abused the privilege of your trust.”

The words stumble and catch in translation, but just as they had on the day Kara first followed her mother to work, the heavy words send a thrill of reverence down her spine.

When Kara kneels, a rumble of soft murmurs washes over the square: the House of El kneels for few people. To do so for Lena says as much as the oath itself.

“I do hereby vow to abandon all ego and malice, and henceforth pledge myself to rebuilding amity lost. May all Krypton know that the House of El does declare you friend and ally, and shall honor you until the final darkness.”

Kara finishes with a kiss to Lena’s knuckles. The touch is the barest of brushes, and Kara can feel Lena’s grip tighten all the more.

"By Rao’s light, I do swear.”

“By Rao’s light,” the witnesses echo, sealing the pact.

A pall of silence follows. Then, the Kel-ex unit withdraws and continues on its way, and soon their audience follows suit. Kara rises to her feet. Lena stares at her, shocked and confused by what she’d just been party to.

“What the  _ fuck _ , Kara?” She mutters, too low for anyone else to hear but no less demanding. 

She wants an explanation, now.

“I’ve just bound the honor of my family to yours.”

Lena swallows thickly. “I appreciate that, Kara, but… if a Kryptonian threatens Earth again, I won’t just stand by and watch it happen. Not if it’s within my power to stop them.”

“And the House of El will stand with you every step of the way.” Kara holds Lena’s gaze, and squeezes their joined hands. “Even if it’s me that needs to be stopped.”

“Kara…”

“The oath doesn’t bind  _ you _ , Lena. It binds me. It means that I trust you implicitly. That I will never make the mistake of doubting you, ever again. It means that whatever happens next, no matter how your opinion of me may change… you will always be my best friend.”

Lena lifts her hands from Kara’s grip. When soft palms cup Kara’s cheeks, she can hardly breathe in anticipation.

Gentle lips press against hers, and Lena fills everyone of her senses. Time stretches and condenses to a single second, and when Lena pulls away Kara can barely feel her feet on the ground.

“We still have a lot to talk about,” Lena warns her. “It may not be easy, but I can’t move forward until I understand why you made the choices you did. Or why you said what you said. Not until I know– oath or no– that you won’t do it again.”

Kara hears the fear in Lena’s voice, the unspoken promise that if they did become more, and Kara did fall into the same mistakes again– Lena wouldn’t recover from it. Not completely.

But Kara senses hope in the way Lena’s fingers remained pressed against her cheek, petting ever so lightly.

“But you want to?” she asks.

Lena takes a quiet breath. Then another.

“Yes,” she murmurs, breaking into a dazzling smile. “Yes, I want to.”


	14. Chapter 14

They return to Alura’s home that evening with their fingers still laced together. They don’t blend in anymore– the lost daughter of the house of El and the woman from Earth. Eyes catch on them and their barely concealed smiles, but no one says a word.

Not until Alura meets them in the kitchen.

“Kara,” she says with a knowing smile on her lips. “I think we need to have a talk.”

Only then does Lena disentangle her fingers from Kara’s. “I’ll leave you to it,” she says, tucking her hair behind one ear.

When she disappears upstairs, Kara can barely contain herself before breaking into a beaming smile. Her mother’s smile grows to mirror it, and when her arms open Kara surges into them.

“It looks like you managed to fix things after all.”

“Not completely,” Kara admits. “But there’s hope.”

“I’m happy for you, little one.” Alura tightens her hug. “And you remember more of the old ways than I thought you would. It takes a great deal of honesty and trust to make the oath you did. I’m so proud of you.”

“I’ve tried to remember everything,” Kara pulls away, just enough to look her mother in the eye. “There was no one else who could. I was the only one left.”

Alura’s gaze grows deep, softening as she realizes the burden of survival she’d placed on her daughter’s shoulders. “I’m so sorry, Kara.”

Kara swallows. “You did what you thought was best.”

Of all the things to question about her parents’ decisions, Kara is at least certain about that. She melts back into her mother’s arms, and imhales the scent of her. “I love you, xiexiu.”

“I love you too,” Alura breathes. “So much.”

* * *

 

They surrender the data crystal of Zor-el’s research in a semi-formal ceremony in the council hall. Kara does the deed– she’d argued that Lena should, since the council asked her to retrieve the data in the first place, but her friend had refused.

“It shouldn’t be me,” was her only explanation.

Nevertheless, Lena doesnt let her face the council alone. She stands beisde Kara in the green robes Alura had first set out for her upon their arrival. The material is finer, it’s lines more clean– more appropriate for an official council session than the blue dress they’d gotten from the market.

Kara struggles not to stare at the crest of her family on Lena’s chest, mimicking her own. Most guests only wore a blank shield, but for whatever reason, Alura had left the el mayarah. Perhaps a silent, yet bold nod to Kara’s very public oath the day before.

“We thank you both for your aid,” the head council pronounces upon receiving the crystal. “And once more grateful that Kara Zor-el has returned. You have been much missed, child.”

“Thank you,” Kara responds. She hides her rankle at the diminutive– she hasn’t been a child since the day she watched Krypton die. “But I wouldn’t have gotten very far without Lena. Your gratitude belongs to her.”

“We agree, most vehemently,” the man replies. “Lena Luthor of Earth: please step forward.”

Lena jolts beside her, every muscle suddenly stiff. Green eyes flash to her in question, and Kara nods encouragement. Lena steps forward, and then forward again when the head council invites her to step onto the round pedestal centered before their seats. Kara finds it odd–traditionally, a plaintiff must request to address the council– but not alarming. Still, she sees the subtle lift of Lena’s shoulders, bracing for some unknown inevitability, and only then does she recognize the resemblance to Earth’s own courtrooms.

Kara moves to reassure her, only to be calmed by her mother’s hand on her wrist. “It’s all right,” Alura promises.

Kara settles back against the edge of judgement that suddenly fills the air, emanating from the pale figure in green between them. 

When she glances at the Council, she finds the head counsel’s gaze on her. It lingers a moment, indecipherable, before turning to Lena.

“We have been made aware of the trials your world has faced as a result of ours. From the inmates of Fort Rozz to our displaced neighbors of Daxam– and now the abominations of the dark cult living under our very noses. And yet you have come to our aid. First, to provide more harun'el, so that our people could survive, and now this– returning our knowledge, so that our people may thrive.”

Lena barely hesitates. “It was the least I could do.”

Another council member speaks up then, her features warm with a hint of mirth, as though she understands exactly what Lena is trying to do.

“The least you could do was nothing,” the councilwoman says. “Instead you have given us our present and future. That is not nothing." 

The head counsel beckons to an attendant, who emerges from the shadows carrying a small lidded chest in their arms. 

"Please accept our gratitude, and this small gift.”

The attendant opens the box, revealing its contents. Kara cranes her neck to get a better look, and finds the familiar pentagonal shape of a Kryptonian crest pillowed against soft, sheer fabric. The only trouble is that she doesn’t recognize the sigil carved in its face.

It’s not until Alura prods her forward that Kara can get close enough to spot the artfully rendered symbols merged into a brand new sigil of Lena’s very own.

“Those are the symbols of compassion,” she murmurs softly to Lena, letting her fingers trail over first one swooping character, then the other, “and trust.”

The head counsel’s nod is echoed by the rest of the council.

“You have shown us compassion, and asked for nothing in return,” another council member explains. “Our people have very little in the wake of Krypton’s destruction, but you have earned our trust. Both are embossed on that seal, so all may know you are a friend to Argo.”

“Thank you. Your gift does me great honor, but…” Even without her superhearing, the sound of Lena’s swallow is audible. “I cannot in good faith accept it.”

“Lena!” Kara blurts, but the head counsel motions for her to quiet. She does.

“On what grounds do you reject our gift?”

“My brother is Lex Luthor,” Lena explains, “a fact known intimately by Kara and her cousin. On multiple occasions he has attempted to destroy Kal-el. He nearly succeeded, and in so doing killed dozens of people. And my family has stolen kryptonian technology, and used it to enact violence on other aliens living on Earth.”

The head counsel eyes Lena, features impassive. “I see.”

“And did you collaborate with your brother and family to commit these crimes?” another council member asks.

“No.”

“Lena has denounced her brother’s actions for years,” Kara adds, letting her voice carry across the quiet chamber. “And she was instrumental in apprehending the rest of her family for judgement.”

Lena’s gaze flashes to her, sharp and quick. But before she can argue any further, the councilwoman speaks up.

“We do not bequeath this gift to your brother, or your family,” the councilwoman says gently, still with her smile of understanding softening her features. “We give it to _you,_  Lena Luthor, and no one else.”

Silence follows, before Lena finally nods in surrender. “Thank you.”

She lacks her usual eloquence, but manages to replace the seal in its box, and accepts the whole thing from the attendant before retreating back to where Alura stands. Kara follows slightly behind, catching the head counsel’s discerning gaze for another split second. Shortly thereafter, the council adjourns, leaving their three guests to find their own way home.

The walk to the house is quiet. Kara’s mind buzzes with the weight of a brand new sigil– gifted to an offworlder, when even the youngest crests of her childhood had already been revered for centuries. Kara doesn’t even know what merits the creation of a sigil, let alone whether the honor is purely symbolic, a relic, or either it conveys the same political weight as any of Krypton’s other houses.

All the while, Lena radiates tension. When Kara brushes her knuckles against her arm, Lena can barely grind out a response.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Her low voice feels like a door slammed shut in Kara’s face. But a look at Lena’s features turns Kara’s reactive hurt to concern. Her eyes are dark with heavy thought, and a sheen in her eyes promises she’s not okay.

Lena disappears upstairs the moment they get to the house. Kara gives her a few minutes’ headstart before following. She finds Lena seated on the edge of her bed, box sitting closed and unthreatening on the mattress next to her. 

“This doesn’t feel right,” Lena tells her without looking up. “I can’t accept it.”

Kara slowly crosses the room to join her on the mattress. The box sits between them. Silent. Deceptively harmless, save for all the weight carried within.

“You know… when I first met you, you told me that you were out to make the Luthor name stand for something beside Lex’s madness." 

Downstairs, Alura sets about preparing their evening meal. Kara hears the sound of her mother moving around the kitchen, and the clink of dishes being set out and used to slice and stir. A small part of her revels the fact that she has no idea what her mother is making. Without her powers, it’s a mystery– along with so many other things. 

"I think,” Kara continues carefully, “maybe you’ve told the world you’re not your brother so many times, that sometimes you have difficulty believing it yourself.”

Lena doesn’t respond, though she inhales several as though she might. When her chin turns away, Kara remembers her own words to Lena, not so long ago.

“Part of that is my fault, now. I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve it, not from me.”

“From Supergirl.”

“Especially from Supergirl,” Kara agrees. “I was the one who told you we didn’t have to follow our family’s path.”

“Except I did. I did, and I succeeded where Lex didn’t. I’m just as–”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Kara says sharply. “Lena, you didn’t make the kryptonite to kill me– you made it to help protect people.”

Lena shrugs. “Lex said the same thing. To this day, he still claims to have done it all for the sake of humanity. How am I so different?”

“Because Lex never had this conversation.”

That catches Lena’s attention. She falls still, and Kara can feel some of her tension bleed away. 

“Lex never asked if he’d taken things too far. Or if he was doing the right thing. He never tried to refuse an accolade, worried that he didn’t earn it.”

Kara reaches out to take Lena’s hand. Lena lets her, but says nothing. 

"Maybe keeping the kryptonite secret was a bad choice. But you know what? When I tossed my boss off a balcony, I almost wished Lex would show up to stop me. I couldn’t stop myself, even though I knew what I was doing was wrong. Someone else had to stop me, and at the time, I didn’t know if the DEO could.”

Lena gazes at her with a deep stare. “That’s quite a turnaround.”

“Yeah.” She casts her gaze across the room, rubbing her palms together anxiously. “I’ve been giving it more thought. The truth is, my cousin and I aren’t the only Kryptonians on Earth. Even with Reign gone, there are others, still hiding. Thomas Coville said he tracked one down not too long ago.“

"Are you worried they might pose a threat like the Fort Rozz escapees?”

Kara shrugs. “I don’t know. And I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop them on my own. If I can’t… maybe there is value in having Kryptonite in a worst-case scenario, no matter how I personally feel about it.”

“You still don’t like it.” Lena doesn’t phrase it as a question.

“I will never like it. I can’t. Lena, I can’t explain how awful Kryptonite is, how much it scares me. But I can learn to accept it, as long as it’s in hands that I trust." 

Lena stares at her like she can’t quite believe it. Kara isn’t sure she can either. But she has to. She doesn’t have the luxury of trusting that she won’t lose control again.

"So you should keep the sigil,” Kara finishes, clearing her throat awkwardly. “You deserve it. Maybe it can remind you when no one else believes it.”

It doesn’t seem to make her feel better. Kara doesn’t know what else to say. Maybe there isn’t anything else to say. If Lena doesn’t trust herself, she’s not going to trust Kara. 

“I made the harun'el because I was desperate to restore Supergirl’s trust in me. And because in a way it let me make amends for what Lex did.” Lena rubs her thumb across the smooth lid of the box, avoiding Kara’s gaze. “How does that make me selfless enough to earn this?”

Kara nods solemnly. “So without those two things, you would have let Argo slowly die?”

Lena shrugs. “Maybe I would have.”

“Lena…”

“I guess we won’t ever know for sure.”

Kara rolls her eyes. “Maybe you won’t. But I already do.”

Green eyes turn to her, suspicious and desperate all at once. 

“Why do you think I asked in the first place? I didn’t think my trust had any bearing on the situation at all, so I didn’t even consider it a factor. But I still knew you’d say yes. Because it was the right thing to do. Because who you are, Lena Luthor, is someone who helps if there’s even the slightest chance she can. Without hesitation.”

Kara reaches over and hinges the lid open. Taking the sigil from within, she holds it over the crest already embossed on Lena’s chest, and waits for the fabric to reshape itself. When she pulls it away, the symbols of trust and compassion are ridged into the dress. 

From where Kara sits, it almost looks like an English L. 

“Right where it should be,” Kara observes softly, placing the sigil back in the box. Lena runs her fingers over the fabric, but Kara can sense the conversation is over… for now. “Are you hungry?”

Lena shakes her head. “I think I’m going to rest for a while.”

“Okay. I’ll be around if you want to talk more.”

* * *

 

She doesn’t. The rest of their stay is uneventful, spent walking the city and steering clear of the heavy conversations still to come. But Lena wears her sigil and lets Kara hold her hand even as they wait for the transmat portal to activate for their trip home.

“You okay?” Kara asks softly.

Lena shrugs. “Maybe I’m just making a mountain out of a molehill. It’s just symbolic anyway. Not like yours.”

Kara merely shrugs her eyebrows, wisely keeping what Alura had shared with her the night before to herself– that while the sigil had originally been intended to be little more than an a symbolic gesture, Kara’s oath at the Hall of Truth had changed that. That as a result of her proclamation, Lena Luthor’s name and sigil had been recorded among the honored houses of Krypton. A minor one, but official enough that the sigil can only be worn by her and her progeny, and that should she so choose, Lena would be welcomed to Argo with open arms.

She’ll tell Lena, in time. But maybe after she’d wrapped her brain around the idea of simply a symbolic crest.

Lena gives Kara’s hand a squeeze as the shimmering event horizon of the portal swirls into existence. “Ready?”

Kara shakes herself, fortifying herself against the return of her powers– and the responsibilities and arguments bound to come with them.

“Let’s go home.”

-FIN-


End file.
